Addio Mio Paese
by PunyMusketeer
Summary: 2P! Italy has found out some tragic news that concerns him in the near future. ...Now he must say goodbye to everyone...or at least those who call him 'friend'.
1. Former Axis

"Germany," the Italian called as he entered through the doors of the manor. He and the blonde were never on good ends. One hated the other as much as a child who hated their mother when they said no to spoiling them.

Although their hate was on a more mature level.

The German came down the stairs, jacket over his shoulders in a rebellious manner and a lazy attitude to go with it. "What do you want?" He asked with a tone, unamused by his presence nearby.

He was expecting him to react in such a way. And he as well, expected nothing in response to what he had to say in front of him.

"…I've come to say goodbye." Veneziano said, face calm, yet emotional.

The other said nothing, and only listening on to what else he had to say before he took his leave.

"I'm…sick, you could say," he paused, smiling a bit as he lifted his head to look up at him. "But not in a way I'll recover from it."

Silence filled the hallway. The entire manor as they stood staring at each other. Germany thought to spoke up, but no words found their way out. Seeing him now, he noticed the dulled tone in Italy's skin. He was...lighter, not to mention thinner than before. However one who clearly didn't know him that well wouldn't have noticed because of his light brown military coat.

Finally, the shorter country turned his gaze to the ground where he shook his head and played it out with a soft laugh, and a weak smile.

"I know it probably doesn't make you worry. After all we never get along…or…got along now. But despite that, we are friends. And as my friend, I wanted you to be the first t-"

Suddenly he was cut off when Germany stepped forward and placed a hand on his head. His eyes widened and he froze.

Germany spoke to him in a light tone, "Ja… we are friends, " he paused, "When did you find out?"

Italy sighed and answered, holding back…tears that threatened to fall down his cheeks. He wasn't ready for all of this. He didn't want it to come so soon.

"Today…Shortly after the plague came to my country I went to get myself tested…" He shook his head, "I'm infected Germany…I-I'm…not going to survive…"

"I'm sorry…" The Italian said. Over and over again he recited the same sentence until his words turned into mutters, when tears finally came down his cheeks. His shoulder shook, and his barrier fell, shattering into nothing. He couldn't handle it.

He didn't know who to turn to for support, since he himself was labelled a cold man with no heart.

He had no one.


	2. Former Axis 2

After the visit to Germany's house, the second player had regained his composure over the situation, settling in and calming down. He had accepted his fate, but with it, he didn't think his fratello could handle the news, at least not yet, so he chose not for the elder Italian to find out…not until he had to take his final leave.

The next counterpart he would speak to…was Japan.

The Italian knocked on the door to his household, fixing his hat on the spot to look at least somewhat presentable for a former member of the Axis. He had done so before letting himself inside Germany's place as well.

As he cleared his through, he awaited for the man's reply.

Red eyes glared through the doors as he slid them open, looking at the Italian the same way before lightening up, as if a sign of showing their neutral relationship. "…What?" He said with a spit of venom in his damper tone.

"Same as always I see, Japan…" he remarked with a weak smirk. "I just want to say a few words, then leave. After all you…won't have to deal with this mad man anymore."

His tone died down into a whisper, with an unenthused sigh to follow.

"…Come inside then." He demanded, opening the door entirely to allow Italy to enter. As he came in, the door slammed behind him, but he didn't take anything by it, only stretching his grin further with a devilish chuckle in response to his actions.

They sat down at a table, Italy placing down his hat for the moment as he shut his eyes and began to speak.

"As you know…my country has been in a critical situation. For a couple of months now really. I've been sick and in isolation from the rest of the world since it started, preventing spreading of disease and further death."

Japan nodded sternly, having a difficult time understanding where this was going. "…and? What does this have to do with me?"

"Quick to the point I see."

Magenta orbs placed themselves on crimson, when Italy frowned, with a tint of sadness, trying to cover up his suppressed emotions to give up and cry. But that was shameful. People had expectations of this man, with his own brutal reputation to go with it.

"I'm dying… is that what you wanted to hear?"

"What?" The Japanese man stood up, staring at him wide eyed, "…You're lying. Hai, you've always been bad with jokes, but it's not April Fools yet. …Try another time." He said quickly, clenching his fists with an insidious glare. All he got in return was a deathly pained chuckle and a gut wrenching cough afterwards.

Italy's black glove covered his own mouth as blood came up his throat, spilling onto his hand as he quickly turned away, lunging forward and groaning. Such a display destroyed his pride as he kept it so high all the time. But Japan wouldn't speak of it, no it meant little to him. But his health…under his intense stare was a spark of worry.

But it was too late.

"…Mi dispiace. I need to go…" Italy said, standing up with his shaking body. "Thing could have gone better in the future…but I have none. Try to get along with Germany, if you will." He winked, taking his leave.

'_I always wanted to see the world burn at my feet, but perhaps my next life…'_

'_My next life…'_


	3. Mi Fratello

**Hey, it's been a while and I'm sorry for the delays! Here is the next part of the fanfiction!**

Every step taken was like a spike engraving itself in the boots of the Italian, movement and reactions becoming slower by each passing moment of the unfortunate day. Eyes once full of life and excitement in unnatural ways were now dulled to the point of a mimic in death. Irregular coughing and splutters of blood escaped his mouth, and within only a couple of hours, he had become frail.

Arrival on the door step of his brother's estate, he knocked lightly and awaited a response, by this time barely able to keep himself on his feet from the long travel to Japan and back.

Opening the door, a blonde man only a couple of inches taller than Italy peaked his head out and gasped at the sight of his little brother, bouncing excitedly in the moment when he picked him up and squeezed the life out of Italy with a hug.

"Ack- f-fratello let go of me bastard-!" He muttered, finding barely enough strength to push him away.

"Oh fratello but I missed you! I was so worried when I called you this morning and you didn't pick up and I tried your mobile but you didn't answer that either and…" The eldest continued the ramble on whilst pampering the younger Italian, nuzzling his cheek against his soft reddish-brown hair.

Glaring suddenly, magenta stared daggers into a clear red, making Romano stop and squeak, letting go of him instantly.

"S-Sorry~" He apologized in a still-somewhat cheery tone.

"…Just let me inside…" he huffed, stifling a cough and covering his mouth in the process. "I need to tell you something important… and it's important to listen for once."

Romano tilted his head, smiling more gently and pulling the other inside, shutting the door and bringing him over to the couch station in the living room. It was a very…odd household, but then again Italy's brother was the definition of strange. He wouldn't have ever admitted it, but that side of Romano was fun. It made him happy, and that very thought caused this to be even harder to say than it originally was. Swallowing, he cleared his throat and relaxed into the soft cushioning of the couch, a small build-up of sweat noticeable on his tanned skin, and his actions starting to worry his fashionista brother.

"You know of the plague infecting our country, brother…" Feliciano started, eyes wandering to the others.

"Of course! You know they had to close down my favourite store because of it. I'm absolutely appalled!" He shouted, but felt the younger man put a gloved finger to his lips, quietening him instantly.

"Yes well…that has to do with this." He added, taking his hand away and smiling gently, an expression he had not shown his brother in so long.

"Fratello I…" He sighed, shutting his eyes and thinking up the right words. He'd already said this to Germany and Japan, but to his brother? This was so much harder than he thought it would be. And remembering Romano's crying face made him feel so guilty at times. "I…um.." He said while thinking, his head throbbing and distracting him from his train of thought. Gritting his teeth in anger, Romano put a hand on his shoulder, smiling comfortingly.

"You can tell me anything fratello."

Those words had rung his ears, and he once more felt tears prickle at the corners of his eyes.

"Fratello I…" he sighed, sniffling lightly. "I'm not going to make it through the plague… I-I've become infected by it. I…I won't be here any longer."

He broke down crying in front of him, only showing such emotions in front of people he truly trusted, like the former members of the axis, his brother, and only a couple of others he hadn't spoken to in a while. Warm arms wrapped around the sobbing Italian, a hand petting his head and a soft 'shh' purred from Romano's mouth to calm him down. There's no doubt the elder brother was scared. He didn't want to lose his only member of the family, but if what Feliciano said was true, then it was true.

"Hey…hey it's okay…" he cooed to him, petting circles on his back.

"S-Shit it's not…we know it isn't…" Italy responded, wiping his tears with them only to be renewed in a number of seconds. "Why do I have to be so damn weak!?" He yelled at himself, loathing his immune system for taking on this plague infecting over his body very fast.

Romano shook his head, and cupped his cheeks, looking him in the eyes.

"Fratello…you've never been weak. You're a strong brother, and I'm so proud of you. I mean yes you can be a totally dick at time but…" He trailed off, giggling nervously, "I couldn't ask for a better younger brother, si?"

"…Thank you…" He bowed his head, smiling.

_Thank you…_

_If only Nonno was still here…_


	4. Misery

**The last chapter comes after this one. I hope you've enjoyed it so far!**

"Fratellino," Romano called as his younger brother opened the door to exit out of the house for the last time in his life. He came to an abrupt stop, red, stinging eyes watching forward the whole time to avoid glancing once more to his brother and break. The scarf-wearing Italian moved forward, hugging him from behind swiftly and broke away before the other could even react. He sighed, arms wrapping around his own torso while slowly moving towards the couch, eyes never leaving his brother when he lowered his head, and walked out, closing the door afterwards.

"…I don't want you to go…" he whispered, that brotherly façade he wore crumbling in moment, and he felt tears slip down his cheeks as he curled into a ball on the couch, sniffling.

Boots dragged along the stone pavement outside, the darkest clouds seen in so long gathering around, as if corresponding to the mood of the plagued nation, teasing him and threatening to make his condition all the more worse.

He coughed and spluttered, red falling from his hand covering over his mouth as he lost his footing momentarily, sliding down a wall he leaned again and finding his breath hard to catch. A shaking inhale of air was enough to make him cough again. He could _feel_ his insides rejecting whatever plagued him; twisting and turning like a never ending ferris wheel.

"S-shit…shit.." he cussed angrily towards his own failed attempt to stand.

He couldn't take it, he simply wanted this agonizing pain to end, so that he could once again meet with his Grandfather. They may not have appeared to be on good ends, but the old man was family either way. And he cared dearly for those close to him, no matter who they were or how they acted towards him.

The thoughts of Rome clouded his mind, and he sighed, curling up against the wall of the open alleyway, watching the citizens striving to survive walk by, each coughing and trying to keep their selves cool with the dropping temperatures. No that wasn't it. The temperatures weren't dropping, but they held fevers instead, making their movements slow and lazy, unthought-of and careless. Some people even managed to get hit by a few cars recklessly speeding down the streets of Italy's homeland.

Without noticing, he had fazed out of reality for an hour, as rain started to fall from the dark clouds in the sky, it drenched him, snapping the Italian out of his trance and forcing him to find some cover nearby. But what was the point in doing that? He was a dead man soon, so why not allow himself to be carried away by the rain he had cherished his entire life, thinking of it a new life and end to troubles? It would have made sense, ironically.

"Do you need help young man?" An elderly woman watched him. She was sick as well, considering her poor frail body. Nevertheless Italy shook his head and looked away; barely keeping his grip on the bricks of a building he found cover under at the front of it.

"N-No..I…I'm fine.." he breathed with trouble, seeing the old woman nod her head and smile, walking away like it was none of her business. After all, it wasn't. Italy could handle himself after all. He wasn't _that_ weak. Right? Never the less, he looked back to her from the corners of his eyes, sighing and clenching his fists.

"I don't have anyone left…" he spoke in a whisper, "I've seen the only people who would care when I leave…all I can do now is wait." With that thought going into action, he laid against the wall of the closed store, watching the rain touch the Earth beneath it and sink in, an almost content smile planted on his face.

He was no longer afraid.


	5. Goodbye

A petal dropped at his feet, heavy limbs swaying idly by his sides, dead magenta orbs stared into the clear field of beauty ahead, the brush of grass against him, and the cool wind mixing the scents of each and every flower within sight. His breaths were left ragged and hoarse, swollen and begging to let the rising blood in his throat escape from his mouth.

He fell to his knees in the centre of the field, lurching forward and coughing into his hand, red staining his gloves and spilling over the flowers beneath the country. He fell, the side of his body hitting the ground and he could no long feel his legs cooperate. They were gone, and so was he slowly disappearing. Although Italy managed to push himself and roll onto his back, he could do no more than that.

"_Nonno…_" He gasped, calling for his Grandfather to come and take him from that place. But after a minute, he smirked, shutting his eyes and resting them as he added, "I…suppose I'll be d-dragged…down to hell…like you were."

If only Rome could hear that, he'd come back to the surface and hit him hard over the head. But there was nothing. No one was around. Nothing but the soft shift in wind and flowers laid around him by nature, keeping him comfortable as he had nearly managed to drift into his eternal sleep. Quickly, he snapped his eyes open.

He was surrounded…by countries.

Truthfully he knew they were nothing but mere delusions, but the fact his mind had conjured them up in his final hour brought a sense of comfort over him. He had never gotten along with any of them. He hated them all. But seeing their face now, his smiling brother, Germany, Japan, the former allies, Hungary… the list could go on, he smiled slightly. Honest in his expression, he laughed like it was all a joke to him.

"Take good care…but do not hurt my family." He muttered; vision blanking out and him becoming limp.

It was as if the whole world stopped turning, time had stopped and people had ceased breathing in the moment Italy Veneziano passed. North Italy was dead, as was its people and crops; its everything had turned to dust.

They had mourned the powerful country. Everyone had no matter how ruthless or uncaring they were.

But he was one of their own.

A country.


End file.
